If you have nothing new to say…

…and no interesting way to say it, shut the fuck up.

Before Michael Jackson’s body was even cold there was already no shortage of media and culture critics ready to play amateur social psychologist and point out the disorder afflicting the American public that leads to an entertainers death receiving coverage as the biggest news story of the year. Some are racists. Bill O’Reilly comes to mind. Others are just out for self-aggrandizement. Lots of stupid people come to mind. Many are both.

Regardless of the reason, congratulations, you win the prize for Best Ability to Point Out Unfuckingbelievably Obvious Shit.

People care a disproportionate amount about Jackson’s death, relative to the stuff in the world that really matters? No, really? Priority of interest for people has been out of whack forever. This isn’t yesterdays news only because it was old news yesterday.

Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton are inserting themselves in a situation they have no legitimate reason to be involved with? Wow, seriously? You mean they’re shameless opportunists that haven’t been pulling these kinds of stunts for decades, whoring themselves out to any cameras in sight? Holy shit!

Railing against the public infatuation with celebrity every time one of them dies doesn’t make you a noble dissenter. It doesn’t make you counterculture and chic. It isn’t speaking truth to power. It’s obvious. It’s easy. It’s tired. It’s an established fact of life to everyone with the modicum of prescience to have realized it long before you have and everyone who’s long since stopped caring and shelved it next to all the other unfortunate but largely inconsequential quirks of human behavior.

Famous people die. Fans take it hard. People are interested. Media cover it. Depending on how larger than life the life in question was, this cycle can take a while.

Get over it. And stop fucking bitching.

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